In the Long Run
by BlankX
Summary: The things that start their relationship in the long run are small and simple, but they aren't complaining.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N- Hey. Yeah, that's all I have to say. Sorry, I'll get more talkative later, promise. Part two will be up soon!**

It's the touch of a hand that get's her in the long run. She'd probably never admit it, but it's the truth. It's not a generous smile, or the soft lilt of a baritone voice whispering, or even the tousled strands of already messy hair that's being further mussed; not that those things didn't help.

It's the simple gesture of a hand closing slowly over hers, the fingertips running down the back of her hand to clasp around her wrist, and there's something infinitely poetic about that. So she lets the hand curl over her balled fist with a slowness that leads to an ache, that leads to a unintentionally pleading look that he would've tired to ignore if he could see it anyway. The ignorance is for both of their sakes really. Neither would be able to deal with the aftermath of giving into such a look just yet.

"Angry?" He asks teasingly. There's a possibility that he only asks such a question for the sake of trying to sound unaffected, but she chooses to ignore that for the same reasons he would've chosen to ignore the look on her face that's. If he has to pretend to be unaffected, then he's really being affected, and she can't think about that right now. Maybe she'll think about it later when the shiver on her skin caused by his fingertips is still refusing to leave.

"Wouldn't you be?" The annoyance in her voice is only half faked. She really was annoyed, but he got rid of that emotion and replaced it with others a little too quickly. But if she doesn't sound annoyed now he may pick up on his knack for calming her rage and gloat. Gloating is fun for no one.

"Getting passed over for an op isn't a reason to go around abusing the gym equipment." Her gaze unwittingly flickers towards the swinging punching bag that he's blocking her from with his body. It's all vaguely reminiscent of the first time she came down here to vent and he interrupted her. He leans in the direction he assumes she's in, (he's not that far off) and her attentions are redirected back onto the conversation. "I should know."

She realizes immediately that she's being a pissy little girl, and that her 'wouldn't you be' comment was a low blow. She got passed over for _one_ op, despite being a perfect choice, because she couldn't fake a good New York accent. He get's passed over for nearly _every_ op, no matter how perfect he would be, because he's blind. Her poor accent is something she can work on, his blindness is something he can't ever improve.

The fist that's in his hand relaxes a little, and he seems to sense it. He smiles triumphantly, (Gloating!) and moves his hand to the palm of her slowly uncurling fist. The fingertips settle there, ghosting over her skin in a way that's almost ticklish. It almost looks like their hands are cupped together, but she doesn't want to think about that because it may result in images of a life she isn't allowing herself to consider at the moment. Maybe she'll think about it later when nightmares of a shell bracelet and concise note start to eat away at her hope.

"Thanks." She turns her hand to solidly grip his lengthy fingers. Now the grasp looks more like a one sided hand shake, and she's feeling a little bit clearer in her mind because of it. She hopes that he takes it as a show of gratitude and not a way to rid herself of those tempting little touches.

"Anytime." There are little green dots splayed across the floor and she knows he's about to leave, so she grips his hand a little tighter. She wants this just a little bit longer before he leaves and she's left to contemplate why the feeling of such a familiar hand get's her so jumbled. He looks confused for a moment, as if he's wondering why her hand is so attached to his, so she pulls away immediately. His arm swings down like a pendulum and he looks even more bothered for a moment, but then his head is turned and he's walking away. She waits until he's disappeared to take another swing at the punching bag, this time for entirely different frustrations.

Later, thankfully not too much later, when his lips are over hers and the action has become almost as familiar as the hand in the crook of her elbow, he asks her why she decided to practically jump him a week after being passed over for an op. She doesn't tell him that it was a miracle she managed to wait a whole seven days before grabbing his face and smashing her lips haphazardly against his, but she does tell him the truth. It was that darn hand of his that finally got her hot enough under the collar to stop thinking and finally do something.

Looks like she decided to admit it after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N- Thanks for the read guys! And thanks to cortexikid for the first review! Hope you enjoy Auggie's side of the story.**

It's her bubbly little laugh that get's him in the long run, not that he would ever tell her that. It would take away all the fun he had trying to make her laugh. She would find out that the main reason for his flirty and sarcastic banter was just to hear the sound of her laugh, and suddenly all the expectations would weigh down on their conversations. Where was the fun in that?

So he kept his little secret and made it a goal to be charmingly funny each time she ran into him, or, the much more common incidents of him running into her. At some point, when they were going out (Because he was going to date Annie Walker eventually. Period.) he would tell her that all those times they happened to be going in the same direction weren't so accidental after all. For now though, she only needed to think of them as coincidental meetings. Lots, and lots of coincidental meetings.

He paused in his thoughts and considered the idea that he had been 'running into her' too much, and that she could be getting suspicious.

But he ignored the thought and went back to pondering her laugh. Ah, her laugh. The sound shifted from a bright echoing chime to a hearty guffaw, and everything in between. He loved the entire range, but his favorite had to be her muffled snort when she tried not to laugh at an insult he'd thrown towards someone. He'd pissed off some people in the office because of that one, but it was worth it.

He was starting to think he'd do just about anything to get her to laugh.

Like the time he'd talked about Jai, knowing full well he was there: "Don't worry Annie, Jai's just uptight because the CIA keeps all their secrets up his a-" That comment had ended prematurely due to Jai's opposition.

And then there was the incident at the bar (Yes, he was a smidge bit drunk.) when he knocked all the peanuts off the counter. The bar tender was notoriously mean, so Annie decided to do him a favor and drag him out of the bar before he noticed and grew belligerent. She stifled a laugh the whole way out until they got to the sidewalk, where she promptly lost it. The incident itself wasn't that funny, but they were feeling scandalous, and the drink had warmed them up a bit.

Auggie didn't even bother to laugh himself anymore. He just smiled brightly, the effort creasing his eyes at the corners, and appreciated the sound of her giggling, or cracking up, or whatever it happened to be that time.

And it was one of those times, when he was just appreciating the sound of her mirth, that he decided he wanted to be much more than friends with his dear Annie. He forgot what it was he had said now, but the sound of her laughing freely with one hand clasped over his forearm gave birth to a feeling that was absolutely impossible to shake.

For the first time since the last time he saw Natasha, Auggie Anderson felt like he was home.

He had been frozen for a moment at the realization, but he quickly placed a good natured smiled on his face and acted as though nothing had changed. Later, so much later that it was impossible for Annie sneak around and watch his expressions flit across his face, he mulled over what had happened with her that day, and reached a decision. He was going to date Annie Walker. Period. And unlike the time with Tash, it was going to last. He was going to open himself up for the first time for a long time, and allow himself to fully trust a women.

Because Annie Walker felt so much like home that he ached when she was away.

Naturally, he was completely surprised when she stormed up to him two weeks later, grabbed him by the collar, and pulled his lips down over hers. It wasn't entirely sensible, but he wasn't going to complain when he was drowning in Joe Malone Grapefruit and her soft, pliable lips were molding so perfectly against his.

He had found home but, even though she later admitted his hand had won her over in the end, he never told her about the day her laugh helped him find it.

Perhaps that was best kept secret.


End file.
